Her Father's Homestead

Regular readers know I favor TA DA moments and Special Days.  On a special day recently, I called my sister-in-law, Kathy, to wish her a happy birthday.  Kat’s an encourager, always one to cheer you on and she’s been solidly in my corner for quite some time.  So on her birthday, I reached out via phone and we had a marvelous conversation, which is the basis for this post.  I’m not sure how the conversation started, but pretty soon we were on one of my favorite subjects – the uplifting and encouragement of women,  these days especially younger women.  We talked  about my daughters and how I had determined early on that I was going to parent them in a way that they knew unconditionally that they were of immense value and loved, not for what they did, but for the sheer fact that God created them and put them on this earth and thankfully, into my arms. 

Kat and I had been talking about their birthdays and how I posted a blog for each of them as a Special Day post.  That led to many other things and we ended up talking about younger women in general, the choices they’re making and for what reasons.  I firmly believe that if today’s generation had a better grasp of their personal worth and value, they would make far better choices.  And not just the younger generation, though it’s much more in-your-face, if you will; this applies to women of all ages.

I ended up telling some stories from the days of  facilitating women’s recovery groups.   Those ladies heard my “speech” as they called it, regularly and every so often, one brought a woman whom she introduced by saying, “This is —-, she needs your speech.”  We’d laugh together and at the appropriate moment I’d segue into the speech that usually begins with Do you know who you are?  Do you really know?  You’ve got some guy calling you names and disrespecting you?  Do you know who you are?  And better, does that guy know with whom he’s messing? 

The answer and today’s lesson – you knew one was coming – is You Are the Daughter of a King – a princess, if you will.  But not just any king, the almighty Creator King of the universe!!  And do you know what?  That means something!

That means that you have incredible worth and value, that you are most worthy of being respected, loved, treated well!  Let that thought permeate your being, your mind, your heart and your soul.  Disrespect yourself with bad choices?  Not as likely if you have a solid sense of your value.  Accept disrespect or worse from others in your life?  Not as likely if you have a solid sense of your worth. 

Do you know who you are?  Head up high, friend, confident and comfortable, standing your ground on the Solid Rock, knowing that you are indeed unique, special, worthy and of incredible value to your loved ones and to a hurting world all around you.  You have a legacy of grace, dignity, value and you have much to give. 

Follow the Solid Rock link, turn up your speakers and sing as you dance around your kitchen with joy and peace in your heart.  Do You Know Who You Are?  You bet, no doubt about it:   Worthy, Valuable and full of Grace – go on out and make a difference in the life of a woman, young or old, that you know!  

In closing I’ll share a favorite verse that closed my Conversation with Kat,  given to me by a woman in one of those aforementioned recovery groups.  Zephaniah 3:17 says that not only does the Lord take great delight in me, He’s singing with joy about me!!  Check it out for yourself then follow the Solid Rock link above; sing out loud as you dance around your kitchen reveling in the knowledge that you are most worthy!!!

That depends on the subject. I can tell you, having just gotten unbundled, when it comes to outside temperature, one degree is pretty darn cold, but it is north of zero, which makes a difference, at least psychologically. I took the time to go through the dress-for-cold routine this morning before heading out with dogs, trash and recycling; it’s one of those things that makes winter in the country more work.  I walked around the kitchen last night looking for a spot to move the coat rack in from the back porch so when I go for my outside clothes they’d at least be as warm as the kitchen, including my ski bibs (can’t bring myself to call them snow pants) and despite the enormity of this old farmhouse kitchen, I’m not seeing a spot that will work for a coat tree loaded with water-proof gear, two ski jackets, bibs, the Ugly Coat, you bet, that one has a name of its own and is loaded with family humor.  Accompanying the coat tree are the baskets of mittens, hats and scarves, including that fun face-mask hat, you know, the kind bank robbers wear.  Then there are the serious boots, which along with the Ugly Coat, do not go into town; maybe the boots on occasion, but the coat, not one time in the eight years I’ve lived out here; its name is most accurate, but it has its place in life here at the Homestead.

  Yes, folks, mid-January and we’re finally entering what’s supposed to be a cold spell.  It might be that temperature is relative at times – what’s cold for me in church has other women fanning with their bulletins and men shrugging off their jackets. When my South Carolina daughter complains about cold, we’re talking about 50 degrees – absolutely balmy compared to this.  

Back to one degree; looking at the night sky through my telescope, a one-degree correction isn’t necessarily all that much.  Ask a ship captain and a one-degree course correction might just prevent a mishap, though I’m not a sailor so that’s speculation. 

Just as in life, sometimes it’s a small thing – a low number, that will sink us if we let it. One degree above zero is unpleasant, but manageable and there is a positive; it’s not 30 below and the sun is shining bright and skies are beautifully blue.  It is more work, everything seems more challenging, but look around.  I had luncheon plans for today and woke up dreading having to get dogs out and trash up to the road early, and then thought about what I was going to wear to my lunch so I wouldn’t freeze.  Lunch is cancelled because my friend’s father, confined to a nursing home, is causing concern and she was heading to see him.  So I’m spared from going back out, which I don’t mind at all, but I’m missing time with a special friend and know my friend is traveling a couple hours in vicious cold to see an ailing parent.  Kind of puts my complaint of one degree into perspective, doesn’t it?

Be blessed and when feeling challenged, try to bless others – you will feel better for reaching outside yourself, I promise.  And with what regular readers will recognize as a theme comes the admonishment to please, let those you love know for sure you love them, speak it often, cherish the times and memories as you never know when just one degree in time or space could change your world for a lifetime.  Be blessed, stay warm!!

I’m fairly certain many of you recognize today’s  title as words spoken by Dorothy in the legendary film, The Wizard of Oz. Nothing like travel to take you outside yourself.  In the last 24 hours I’ve been in Green Bay and had breakfast made for me by my dad, shared morning devotions with both parents, flew into Minneapolis and wandered the airport, much larger than GB’s, flew four more hours in a very large, every-seat-booked plane replete with sick people coughing away, babies crying and a very engaging seat mate, to arrive in an even larger airport, EARLY, no less – yep air travel at its holiday best – no delays, no missed connections, to finally look across a huge baggage claim with multiple carousels, to see the fabulous smile of my Erin Lee, coming toward me arms outstretched for a hug.  I’m spending Christmas with a beloved daughter and I am definitely not in Kansas anymore.

To keep the theme going, hauling a 44-pound suitcase plus computer bag, bundled in gloves, scarves and hats, we boarded a train full of commuters speaking a plethora of languages with the ever-present, eerie, scifi, computer-generated voice announcing stops and warnings, giving you the feeling someone is watching your every move.   Don’t recall doing that in Green Bay lately, let alone in Shawano!  From there, we waited at a bus stop after which I experienced being hollered at by a bus driver with a dramatic accent for the first time in a long time! This is urban life in 21st century America. The bus ride was similar to the train, but with a real, human driver who did not find it humorous that I was trying to stuff my two dollar bills into the slot where my quarter should go.  Very embarrassing  with Erin, lugging the heavy bag, behind on the sidewalk, waiting to board.  That’s when the driver hollered and realizing my error, I started laughing, my big out-loud laugh, while Erin giggled.  It WAS funny, but apparently the driver has his own sense of humor because he was not laughing.  Public transportation, a metro experience extraordinaire…   and one lived by many people every day across this country and around the world.  Guess I’m pretty insulated in my rural day-to-day living where I never see a bus, no commuter train either, but large slow-moving farm equipment is de rigeur.

Finally arriving at Erin’s; she’s moved since my visit last year, so this is all new.  New roommates, too, more culture for me.  The roommates in this house are Esra and Gigo, with their fairly large dog, Reine.  Esra is from Turkey, Gigo from Argentina, both of them bike messengers, again, when’s the last time you saw one of those in Shawano or Green Bay?  Additionally, Gigo, builds custom bicycles, in fact Gigo just stopped in to say hi on his way to work, Argentine accent and all   

We shared a quick dinner at home, then snuggled in to watch a movie and I just reveled in cuddling with my firstborn for the first time in a year.  My first evening of Christmas holiday is history and I’m definitely not in Kansas any more. 

I love traveling, seeing new places, tasting, literally and figuratively, other cultures.  Life is so very different here from my daily life, urban versus rural and both have their virtues and both have their drawbacks.  For now, I’m going to go exploring,while Erin Lee works a few hours.  We’ll meet for dinner at a place we wanted to get to last year, but didn’t, so tonight’s the night!!  More fun and adventures on this Christmas holiday.  Stay tuned…

Today’s title is a spin on the old proverb, “Physician, Heal Thyself,” words Jesus quoted in Luke 4:23.  According to Wikipedia, the moral of the proverb is to attend to your own defects before attending to others.  And knee-deep in defective thinking is exactly where I found myself for about 12 hours, beginning last night and ending in the last half hour or so.

I’ll not relate the litany of events that led to this sorry state.  Late last night I poured out the pitiful tale to one of three people I can call after 11pm.  We actually commented that it was very unlike me to be so morose.  That may be, but you wouldn’t have known it if you were on the other end of that midnight phone call.  So now I conduct personal therapy, putting my thoughts on paper (figuratively speaking).

Why publish the story?  In the interest of transparency, I’d say; I know transparency is a buzz word, but I like it.  Everyone has their moments; it’s how you address them that matters.  Being known among friends and family for speaking positively, applying a positive spin where it can be applied and admonishing others to do the same, it’s only fair to admit to missing the mark from time-to-time.  Besides, then I get to say that all those little truisms I toss off to you all were used on myself last night and early this morning when I awoke still in the depths.  Oh, yuck; bad enough to end the day in the depths, but start today that way, too?  This would not do. 

Buck up, baby!! Yes indeed, those were my words to myself before 6 a.m., and while not instant, with the help of determined thinking and the counting of blessings, aided by lively music and reaching out to share a positive story with a family member, I started coming around.

What’s changed?  All the things that led up to yesterday are still real – hassles, disappointments, frustrations; they haven’t been miraculously fixed or removed, but my attitude has been adjusted.  I still have to deal with the messes, but whining or crying won’t help.  As was mentioned in that late-night conversation, what are these challenges compared to a malignant brain tumor; get over yourself, hon   Just  letting you know I try to hold myself to the standards I have for others

Follow the links; listen to two of my favorite pick-me-ups:  He Reigns and Blessed Be Your Name!  Sing along, dance around your kitchen. Make it a fabulous day remembering two last things:  God’s mercies are new every morning and we will rise up like eagles!    BE ENCOURAGED!!

I didn’t do the usual O Give Thanks essay last night and in the bright sunlight of the day after Thanksgiving, it seems inappropriate.  So a new direction for this day.  Am I out shopping?  Not on your life; I have never done the Black Friday thing and Lord help me, I have no intention of starting any year in the future.  So if you’re easily offended, you may want to tune this one out because I’m about to speak my mind.  Why? Because I can; this is my site. 

I will venture out today, but no further than the hardware store and only to pick up pellets for the water softener so my cousin, Dan, can add them when he comes by later to change the furnace filter, which I’ve determined may be the cause of my allergy challenges these last couple of weeks.  I’ll say right out of the gate, I do not get this mad frenzy to camp out in parking lots in the cold, to battle other folks to get a “deal.”  Not only do I not get it, I’m fairly appalled by the whole idea.  This year it’s even worse.  Stores that used to open at 5:00 a.m. on Friday were open ALL DAY on Thanksgiving so folks can be grabby and pushy and rude  in pursuit of  stuff to show how much they love others!  I do not get it.

Why do I care?  Why not just quietly not participate?  Because I don’t have to be quiet; this is the place I can speak my truth.  It hurts my heart to see and hear the level of greed and want to which this nation has fallen.  Late last night, while knitting a Christmas gift for someone special, yep, I said knitting, a good old-fashioned hand-made gift, I turned on the BBC news on Wisconsin Public Television (WPT).  That’s a clue – I don’t have cable.  A guest in the US was asked his opinion of what he was seeing.  His comments were enlightening – first he was shocked that people were in tents with small children to be first in line at an electronics store. It actually got funny as his amazement continued.  It was Thanksgiving, an American holiday, and he didn’t see a whole lot of giving thanks; he saw a whole lot of scrambling for stuff, stuff that doesn’t make a bit of difference in the big picture and I don’t mean televisions. 

On the other hand, I spent a fair amount of time yesterday on the phone with a very special 15-1/2 year old who doesn’t have a place to live, no home, right here in Shawano County on Thanksgiving Day 2011, because of an abusive, alcoholic parent, a mother, no less!  It breaks my heart.  This young woman, a former student of mine, is very intelligent, motivated, an A student involved in lots of activities.  Additionally, she is musical, funny, loves to read and had just begun her first job to save money for a car so she could continue to get to work and not be at the mercy of her mother’s sobriety or lack thereof.  

We spent a good deal of time trying to come up with a plan, nothing big or grandiose, just a plan that would get her through the next six months, allow her to finish the school year and get that driver’s license in safety and some semblance of sanity without the constant stress jeopardizing her ability to continue to do well.  Thanksgiving?  She initially wasn’t very thankful – she’s angry, understandably so.  Two parents and no parental stability or guidance; one not very available and the other physically, emotionally and spiritually very ill, resulting in a barrage of venom, hateful name-calling and constant battering of this 15-1/2 year old spirit.  

What does this young woman want for Christmas?  Not another gadget, that’s for sure.  She wants her mother to be sober and to quit calling her names and provide a home.  Is that too much to ask?  Is this all true, you might wonder.  Yes, it is.  I’ve seen this mother in action going back five+ years.  I’ve had this young woman sit down on the piano bench and when I asked the standard, “How was your week?” have her burst into tears because of a ruined 13th birthday party. 

I’ve seen this coming, observing her recent comments on Facebook and receiving a plea for help via Facebook message in the last two weeks.  Yesterday we talked about the reality of her life, what IS, not what she dreams. We brainstormed practical solutions and a six-month plan.  We talked about alcoholism,  rehab and relapse and the odds of her Christmas wish coming true in the next four weeks and how to persevere through broken dreams.  O Give Thanks, I thought to myself and sighed a prayer that my Lord remembers this young woman, which I believe He does. 

Our conversation ended with a shared chuckle.  I haven’t mentioned that she loves to write.  I told her to think about the story she’s got inside and being able to tell it to the benefit of others.  She laughed that wonderful laugh of hers at the thought of being a published author someday and speaking from a stage to a group of young people.  We hung up the phone with a bit of hope for better days to come.  This young woman is a survivor and I believe she will triumph, and in the scheme of things, that big picture, again, there’s not enough stuff on the planet to fill the holes in our souls. 

Going into this  Christmas season, look around, find a way to share yourself and your blessings with someone in need.  They’re everywhere and I believe the best way to lift your own spirits is to help or encourage someone else.  Lets truly be thankful during this season and demonstrate the sentiment by sharing it!  Happy Thanksgiving and looking ahead, Merry Christmas, too, and yes, it is Christmas with a capital C!

Today’s post is a rerun, first posted some time ago in honor of my paternal grandmother.  On top of that, it’s a day late   From what I remember of her, she would be happy to have the greetings and tardiness would be overlooked with that smile I remember so well.  

Hattie – a name you don’t hear too much anymore, in this case short for Henrietta, my Grandma Buelow who, if she was still with us, would have been 122 years old yesterday.  She passed away at age 85 and played an important role here at Her Father’s Homestead. She came as a young bride in 1907 when she married my grandfather, Henry Buelow. That’s right Henrietta Jantz married Henry Buelow, as you can see in their wedding invitation

                                                          Hattie’s wedding invitation

That’s where I first saw her referred to as Hattie. She came to the Homestead and built a life here, raised ten children, seven boys and three girls, all born in this wonderful old house I call home. She lived here until she passed away, cared for in her later years by her son, my Uncle Elmer and his wife, my favorite Auntie Arlene, well known to readers of this blog.

We saw Grandma often, as on any given Sunday we’d drive to what my Dad called The Farm, the place he grew up along with his brothers and sisters, the children of Her Father’s Homestead, and the place we visited with those aunts, uncles and cousins, because this was where Grandma lived. So many memories… A white-haired Grandma, saying grace in German and smiling; I remember her smile just like you see in the picture in the barnyard with my Grandpa, who passed away long before I was born.

That photo is a bit unusual for its time in that it shows what’s today called a public display of affection – Grandpa has his arm around her, she’s snuggled into him and is holding his hand and she’s smiling. In the background of that photo, you see her brother-in-law, the gentleman with the hat, and also her son, my Uncle Elmer, twin of Alfred, who’s birthdays would be today, both passed on. So many memories…

The last photo, again a smiling Grandma, in front of what may be the old lilac tree at the corner of the house where I live.

I said a long time ago that this old Homestead of mine would tell a story, herstory, I called it. And that it has, the story of Her Father’s Homestead told through my eyes with gratitude for the women who came before me – the great grandmother I didn’t know, Grandma Buelow, Auntie Arlene and now me. Happy belated birthday, Hattie! So many memories…

     Regular readers know I’m not a big movie buff, can’t sit that long; I have a few all-time favorites, though not what you might expect. First is Gone With the Wind, followed by the original Terminator and Terminator 2: Judgment Day.  It’s from T2 that today’s title is taken – that classic movie moment when Schwarzenegger is literally terminating the bad guy, takes off his shades and says, “Hasta la vista, baby”, which has become an iconic movie line, 

Within moments of completing my last biology assignment late yesterday, I was deleting, terminating, if you will, all record of having taken that course.  Usually within a day or so, I burn a CD with all the papers, essays, whatever, and it’s my record of the experience.  Not this one – I couldn’t wait to wipe away all evidence of its existence; even the textbook is already gone.  And in the process of delete, delete, delete, the words “Hasta la Vista, Bio,” popped into my mind and I laughed out loud!!  My nemesis is no more.

What was the problem?  It was a combination of the course and the instructor and I can hear some eyes rolling and see a smirk or two.  Truth is, it was absolutely the course design, vindicated by the fact that midway through, after losing several group members to dropping the course and numerous emails between instructor and remaining students, the instructor actually admitted that the course was being redesigned and would be a 16-week course in the future, not 8 weeks as I had it.  I felt from the start that the work load was excessive; that was validated.  Additionally, the tests, three and four a week, were complex, confusing and virtually impossible to complete in the allotted time.  Enough said.

It’s done, gone and once this is posted, will never be mentioned again.  I’m pretty good at accepting what is, as opposed to what I would like and am not big on whining.  So I’ve done my time, that required course is history – well, it’s still biology, but no more for me – ooh, bad joke, but that’s okay, I made one – yay for me!!

The lesson here?  You knew one was coming – persevere.  While Scripture would be appropriate here, what is coming to mind is a line from an old Stone’s tune (must be that kind of day)  “You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find you get what you need.”  What I needed was to pass the course and that I have done, in the process getting the first C of this college career.  Do I like it?  You know I don’t, but I reached a point where I believed, as I told the instructor in an email, that the ROI on the course was negative.  That being said, how much more effort was I willing to expend?  The end result was expending enough effort to get that C and accepting that I do not need to be an A student.  Who cares, really, besides me and perhaps the lesson is that my ego and pride needed attention.  Gotta love the way the Lord works in our lives.  I’m not claiming to know the mind of God, but it wouldn’t surprise me if our Heavenly Father, in His infinite wisdom and what I believe to be a fantastic sense of humor, too,  put me through this to teach me a bigger lesson than biology.    Point taken, Father, lesson learned and I say with joy and laughter, HASTA LA VISTA BIO!!!   Have a beautiful day.

     What a blessed woman I am – two special days in one week.  Today we celebrate my firstborn child, Erin Lee, born 27 years ago tonight, just just shy of midnight, changing my world forever.   I knew she was going to be Erin Lee, no ultrasound needed or taken; it wasn’t that common then.  When I told my obstetrician that I was embroidering her Christmas stocking and already had her name across the top; he reminded me that the odds were 50/50.  When I told him that I was working on her first Christmas dress – red velveteen and white satin -  he just shook his head.  And then she was born, four days overdue, in typical fashion, making a dramatic entrance in her own time – Erin Lee -  I just knew. 

     She was tiny, five pounds, thirteen ounces, and it truly was love at first sight.  I asked for her bassinette to be left in my room, not all that common then, but I couldn’t imagine them just whisking her off to a nursery.  I wanted to get to know this little miracle and that we did – gently dancing around the hospital room to the taped music I had brought along, forging an unbreakable bond.

     What I couldn’t possibly have known was the depth of motherly love that would overtake me instantly and continue to grow. We were talking about that just last week in a fun conversation about her impending birthday and nearing the age of 30, close to my age at her birth.  As I’ve had occasion to tell her over the years, there is absolutely nothing on the face of this earth that could possibly change the fact of my unconditional love for her; she was and always will be my Erin Lee. 

With her permission, I describe her as 105 pounds of pure spitfire, a force of nature.  She’s an artist in personality and temperament, unlike myself;  I’ve always been amazed at how she sees the world, from little on, with totally different eyes than mine.  I’ve saved samples of her art over the years; a fascinating  journey through the developing eye and mind of an artist’s view of her world, always a unique perspective.  It will provide the back-story when she’s famous, having her first gallery show.  In the meantime, three of her paintings hang in my home and I wear several pieces of her jewelry.

  An early reader, having completed the Laura Ingalls Wilder series at age six (a gift from her first-grade teacher during one of her many hospitalizations), she’s intelligent and articulate.  I used to joke that all the time spent in an oxygen tent paid off beautifully, the silver lining to the difficult days of chronic illness first manifested at five months.  With a gift for languages hearkening back to her early days of imitating Pepe Le Pew, the French-speaking cartoon character and a first-rate imitation of Lady, star of the movie Lady and the Tramp, this was a little girl who let you know, with a toss of her hair,  that she knew she was special and that is for certain.   When Erin Lee laughs, everybody laughs, it’s positively contagious.  She’s fiercely loyal with a wicked wit.  If you’re close to her, she may challenge you in ways that test your soul, but the result is always worthwhile; I’m smiling as I reminisce in these early-morning hours  

  My firstborn child is 27 today.  I am so very proud of the woman she has become and I am a better person for being her MummaLee.  Blessings, Erin Lee and thank you for the joy and sheer pleasure you’ve brought me over these 27 years.  I’d do it all over in a heartbeat.                                                                 

       Joyeux Anniversaire,

                     Erin Lee

                     J’adore!!!

      Twenty-six years ago this evening, my I met my younger daughter, Meghan Lee, for the first time.  Weighing in at just six pounds, she showed early signs of being her own person, struggling to be released from the hospital swaddling that her sister, a year earlier, had found so comforting.  Being her mother, one might accuse me of prejudice, but I am so very proud of the young woman she has become. I am blessed to be close to her, not in proximity, but in mind and heart, the places that really count. I  have watched her grow over the years, overcoming challenges and learning to soar like an eagle!!

An early reader determined to keep up with her sister, based on something she found in a book, she began calling me “Mother.”  Not mom and not just to my face, but in reference to me as well.  It was very noticeable, coming from this little person, so formal – Mother.  She still does, today;  I’m used to it and no longer feel like Joan Crawford.  That’s Meghan, no nicknames, please; only one special uncle is allowed that privilege.  I made that mistake back in April when I met one of her employers and a nickname slipped out, innocuous, but the man seized on it.  For the rest of the time there, it was Meggie this and Meggie that and you could almost hear the eyes rolling. 

My younger daughter turns 26 today and I couldn’t be more pleased to claim her – kind, loving and generally an exceptional human being, grown now, with a blog of her own.  I’m thanking the Lord for putting her in my arms and into my care – a gift to me beyond compare.  Joyeux anniversaire, Meghan Lee, j’adore!!

Readers know I’m a fan of TA DA moments, have written about them here before, but just what does it mean?  I think it’s something I picked up from a nephew, Colby, years ago.  When Col was young, he was fascinated by magic and eager to show anyone and everyone his latest trick.  He had put together a show complete with magician’s hat and cape and a very fun routine.  At the end of each trick, he’d say, “Ta da;”  it was too cute.  I don’t remember ever using the words before then, but since then I’ve made them mine.  A TA DA moment can be anything from a fabulous sunset to getting a well-deserved A in a tough class, to something that just absolutely makes you smile or laugh out loud. 

Yesterday was such a day.  I’ve been out here at the Homestead now for just about eight years and in that time I’ve become closer to a special woman y’all have heard about, my favorite Auntie Arlene.  I wrote about her most recently in July, commemorating her 93rd birthday.  I posted one of my all-time favorite photos, Auntie Arlene and me on the front steps of the Homestead, taken approximately 54 years ago. 

We’ve talked, she and I, about re-staging that old photo and one day recently at a get-together with her daughters, she said, “Should we do it today?”  That didn’t work out, but yesterday, a beautiful, sunny day, my cousin, Janice, called, said she was in town at her mom’s and how about we take that picture.  What a fabulous idea and within a couple hours, Janice, her twin sister, Jane, and Auntie Arlene, all 93 years of her, were here.  And TA DA time had begun. 

Below you’ll see  that old photo, taken when I was about two, along with a brand-new one taken yesterday!  I didn’t sit on her lap, for obvious reasons, but we did choose the same spot and amid all kinds of laughter, we took that photo.

 We  shared hugs and smiles and just reveled in the relationship.  And that, my friends, is a quintessential TA DA.   Is it important in the scheme of world events?  You bet it is in my world. I’ve said it before and will likely say it again – where we come from is important and tradition is the glue that binds us together.  And survivor that I am, the oft -repeated message here is cherish your loved ones and never miss the opportunity to let them know they are loved and cherished.  Look for  those TA DA moments, create them whenever you’re able and tuck them deep into your heart!!   Blessings!!

Arlene and LeeAnn 54 years ago

Auntie Arlene & LeeAnn today